


Cultivation Unsolved: The Unclean Realm Special

by wearealltalesintheend



Series: Cultivation: Untamed [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buzzfeed Unsolved Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Humor, Road Trips, Spooky, and juniors doing their shenanigans, jiang cheng is driving the longest roadtrip of his life to qinghe, just a little just for flavor, mostly jiang cheng being done, the juniors have a bfu kinda show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: “But Wei-qianbei,” not-Sizhui cries, sounding like he’s pouting, “Jiang-zongzhu drives like an old lady!”“The traffic laws are there for a reason–” he cuts himself off, abruptly realizing he’s arguing with a teenager he refuses to remember the name of.“Can we stop now?” Jin Ling is shoving himself between the seats again, “like, right now now?”“Will you stop that?” He snaps, reaching to poke at Wei Wuxian to do something about it, “get back to your seat before I break your legs!”“Jin Ling, you know your uncle never makes empty threats like that,” his brother says with his know-it-all voice that makes Jiang Cheng want to throw the car into a tree. “Now, what do you want stopping now? There isn’t even a lake around here! Just rocks and ugly trees and–”“I’m going to be sick!”*or, Jiang Cheng and the road trip from hell.*or, the juniors needed someone to drive them to Qinghe. Jiang Cheng is the only one who owned a minivan.
Relationships: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán & Lán Jǐngyí & Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī & Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn
Series: Cultivation: Untamed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149833
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	Cultivation Unsolved: The Unclean Realm Special

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i love buzzfeed unsolved and i love the untamed, so [hannah](https://whattheelizabeth.tumblr.com/) and I had the big brained idea of mashing the two! We have a full post about it [here](https://wenqiing.tumblr.com/post/635725389242810368/okay-but-can-we-talk-about-a-buzzfeed-unsolved-au) if you want to learn more about this au!

**HOUR ZERO**

The sky is clear blue. Cloudless. Stretching lazily in all directions, merging with the lake surfaces still as a mirror.

It’s a beautiful day in Lotus Pier, and Jiang Cheng’s life is a horrible joke.

“Aiya, what are you giving me this look for? I’m not the one who forgot the batteries!”

“I told you it wasn’t on my list!”

“It wasn’t on mine either, if it helps.”

“It really doesn’t! I’m never in charge of batteries! That’s always Jingyi’s job!”

“And yet, we never learn.”

“Zizhen, stop enabling him! I forgot it one time!  _ One time!” _

“Maybe, Hanguang-Jun won’t mind bringing it again?”

“Why would we bother Lan Zhan? Nie- _ xiong  _ will have a camera, or he’ll buy one for us on the way to the bunker,” says Wei Wuxian, because this is a nightmare and the universe hates him.

Jiang Cheng had made a promise to himself to stay out of this mess, but he has a horrible vision of going shopping with both Wei Wuxian  _ and  _ Nie Huaisang, at the Unclean Realm, no less. It’s  _ horrifying;  _ he’s  _ horrified  _ by the prospect. So, really, once again he’s being forced to intervene because he forgot bringing Wei Wuxian in the midst of four excitable teenagers means he now has  _ five  _ excitable teenagers. He grits his teeth. “No one’s calling anyone. There are batteries in the glove compartment.”

“There are?” Jin Ling echoes, somewhat dubiously, as if Jiang Cheng hadn’t gotten a call in the middle of the night more than once looking for lures. He’s prepared now, so what? Fucking sue him.

Wei Wuxian pouts. He probably had had the same vision as Jiang Cheng, then. “Ah, good thinking, good thinking, no need to stop on the way.”

Jin Ling’s friends all look heartbroken. Jiang Cheng sighs. “Just get in the car before I throw the keys in the lake.”

They all get in the car, scrambling one after the other, and he grabs the back of Wei Wuxian’s shirt before his brother could fuck off to the backseat. If he’s doing this, he will not be miserable alone, and besides, surrounded by children, he’ll take any adult company, even Wei Wuxian. “You’re in the front with me,” he tells him, scowling and giving him a good shake before stomping off to the driver’s side. “I’m not a damn taxi.”

It’s a beautiful morning in Lotus Pier, but it’ll be a long,  _ long  _ twelve-hour drive.

*

**HOUR: 1**

“I think you took the wrong turn,” Wei Wuxian says for the third time. Also, for the third time, Jiang Cheng cranks up the music. It’s an awful racket that reverberates in the car, but it’s a small price to pay for his sanity, really. 

Outside, the road follows the river, a blur of blue so bright, it almost looks white, comforting and familiar like all of Yunmeng. There are no boats today, too late for fisherman to still be out in the water and too early for tourist season, and the still surface is placid like a mirror, lotus pods floating among the odd clouds.  _ Hey, Jiang Cheng, let's go on a road trip, how about that? Let's drive over the mountains until we find the ocean. Let's get Shijie and go meet the sea.  _ He blinks, it dispels like fog in the late morning.

“Jiang Cheng,” the music’s volume rises again. Unfortunately, so does Wei Wuxian’s, “I really think you took a wrong turn back there.”

He’s eyeing the radio consideringly when one of Jin Ling’s friends pokes his head between the seats. “Hey, so, this disciple is wondering if we could, uh, maybe lower the music a little?”

It’s Ouyang’s boy, the one that’s always sniffing around Lotus Pier these days, traipsing around the market whenever Jin Ling is there, and while he’s very polite and overall not that bad for a teenager, Jiang Cheng elects to fix him with a glare through the rearview mirror.

“Erm,” he squirms, eyes darting between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian has his nose stuck on the map he pulled from gods-know-where, so there’s no help coming from there, “please?”

Before Jiang Cheng could decide between another good ol’ glare or simply turning the volume up to make a point, his traitor of a nephew pushes the boy to the side, shoving him back into his seat, and reaches himself for the radio. “Stop scaring my friends! Why do you have to do this every time?”

From the last row comes a crowing,  _ “aww, you admitted we’re friends!”  _ followed by a muffled noise, and Jin Ling goes red, face scrunching up in a fierce scowl like he’s either in pain or about to yell very loudly, or maybe both. Jiang Cheng still feels the need to bark, “what’s going on back there?” Then, to Jin Ling, he adds, “and is that how you talk to your elders? Where’s your seatbelt? See if I don’t leave you on the side of the road.”

“I don’t think we should still be seeing the river,” says Wei Wuxian, frowning at his frayed map like all this noise isn’t bothering him at all. He looks up, “Jiang Cheng, don’t be mad–”

A headache makes itself known right in the center of his forehead. It’s been barely an hour.

“ – but I think you took a wrong turn somewhere around the last gas station.”

He should never have picked up Yanli’s call. Maybe the peacock had a point, maybe he should consider hiring a PA to screen his calls. Maybe then, he could have been at home right now, enjoying his Sunday. Maybe then, it would have been Lan Wangji suffering through this hell, see how he likes it.

Silently, he adds  _ hiring a PA  _ to his to-do list and turns his blinker on, taking the next exit back to the last crossroad they’d passed through.

*

**HOUR 4**

Something beeps in the backseat.

It’s not the first time a suspicious noise comes from there, but Jiang Cheng has been trying to ignore it for the past half an hour, filing the sounds as  _ at least they’re entertaining themselves instead of bothering me.  _

Which had been fine, except there’s giggling now. Bursts of laughter that get shushed right after. That’s even worse, the shushing. It pings his uncle-senses, sends alarm bells ringing in his head.

Something now pings on the passenger seat. Wei Wuxian makes a strangled sound. It’s the very familiar sound he makes when he’s trying not to laugh at something particularly funny– it pisses Jiang Cheng off in a truly monumental way.

“I’m hungry,” another one of Jin Ling’s friends says. It sounds polite but whiny, so he figures it’s one of the Lans, the not-Sizhui one. 

More shushing. 

Something thumps against the back of his seat. “That better not have been a foot,” he warns, cursing the shackles of having to keep his eyes on the road.

“Aiyo, Jiang Cheng,” his brother whines from his right, the damned map still sprawled on his lap, “don’t be so harsh, they’re just having some fun.”

Jin Ling pokes his head between the seats again. “You remember fun,  _ jiujiu? A-niang _ says you used to be fun.”

_ “Seatbelt,”  _ he tells him, resisting the urge to shove him backward.

There’s an indignant squawk as Wei Wuxian shoves Jin Ling back to his seat with a hand on his face. Now that’s a conflicting thought: half of Jiang Cheng is extremely satisfied with the entire thing, but the other half rebels against agreeing with his brother on principle.

“But Wei- _ qianbei,”  _ not-Sizhui cries, sounding like he’s pouting, “Jiang- _ zongzhu  _ drives like an old lady!”

_ “The traffic laws are there for a reason–”  _ he cuts himself off, abruptly realizing he’s arguing with a teenager he refuses to remember the name of. This is what happens when he answers his phone.  _ There’s this conference in Lanling,  _ Yanli had said,  _ we can’t take the whole day off. What about me, I can’t take the day off either, I have a sect to run,  _ he had said.  _ But A-Cheng,  _ she had countered,  _ it would mean so much for Jin Ling.  _ Maybe the trouble was that it had been a video call. His sister had given him her sad, puppy eyes, and the peacock had scoffed and said something about calling Cloud Recesses, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t let that stand. Lan Xichen has been trying to take his spot as favorite uncle, he couldn’t give him an opportunity to get ahead. 

“Can we stop now?” Jin Ling is shoving himself between the seats again, “like,  _ right now  _ now?”

“Will you stop that?” He snaps, reaching to poke at Wei Wuxian to do something about it, “get back to your seat before I break your legs!”

“Jin Ling, you know your uncle  _ never  _ makes empty threats like that,” his brother says with his know-it-all voice that makes Jiang Cheng want to throw the car into a tree. “Now, what do you want stopping now? There isn’t even a lake around here! Just rocks and ugly trees and–”

_ “I’m going to be sick!”  _ comes Sizhui’s voice, alarmingly wobbly, and Jiang Cheng barely has the time to trade one wide-eyed look with his brother before throwing the car to the side of the road with a violent sharp turn. Somewhere behind them, several cars honk in protest.

Doors are shoved open and the Ouyang boy is diving off the car so they can push his seat over and make space for Sizhui to lean out the door, Not-Sizhui helping hold his hair off his face. “There are tissues in the glove compartment,” he tells Wei Wuxian, grimacing at the retching noises. Did he know his sort-of-nephew got car sick? No, he would have remembered if someone told him.

Either way, he jumps out, rounding the front of the car to save everyone the embarrassment, and goes to root through their bags. The boys’ paraphernalia takes up most of the space, organized in a chaotic sort of way that makes his head hurt if he spends too long trying to understand where everything goes, but Jiang Cheng had managed to squeeze his own bags in there before taking off this morning. 

_ “Oh no,”  _ he hears Jin Ling say, and a second groan joins Sizhui in losing their breakfast in the dusty grass. 

Silently, he picks up another water bottle and the pack of mints Jin Ling had slipped in there once when he had still been a kid barely reaching his hips and begging to accompany him around the nearby towns and promptly forgotten about it. After debating for a minute, he snaps the luggage compartment shut with a little more force than necessary, just in case people started getting the wrong idea.

The view that greets him when he emerges from behind the car is, to say the least, not ideal, but it could have definitely been worse. Sizhui has recovered enough to sit on the car, legs dangling back and forth above the grass while Wei Wuxian rubs his back and makes cooing noises that were probably meant to be soothing. Not-Sizhui is hovering at his side, but the Ouyang boy is still making sad little sounds, swaying a little as he leans on Jin Ling to stay upright.

At least no one is throwing up anymore. That’s how low the bar is currently.

“Shut up and drink this,” he offers Sizhui one of the bottles, careful to open it first in case his fingers are too shaky. Then, after making sure the kid takes one sip and his brother’s got this, he marches to the second pitiful teenager, “you too. Come on, keep looking at that rock, don’t look at the road, it’ll just make you dizzy again.”

“Thank you,” the kid sniffles, looking up at him with big, sad eyes, and Jin Ling is  _ beaming  _ now, so Jiang Cheng pats him once in the head before quickly extricating himself from their space.

“The next town is just ten minutes away, less if I speed,” he says, taking Wei Wuxian aside while the boys sip their water  _ slowly, or else,  _ “but we’re still far from Qinghe.”

His brother grimaces. “A-Yuan gets car sick sometimes when the roads get twisty like this,” he waves at the general direction of the highway, “I think it reminds him too much of a river.”

That’s not good. Jiang Cheng remembers the way well enough to know it doesn’t get much better than this, they haven’t even started to go up the mountain yet.  _ Well, shit.  _ “You should call Nie Huaisang,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “tell him we’ll be late.”

Wei Wuxian blinks.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “It’ll take longer to get around the mountains instead of through it,  _ obviously.” _

“Obviously,” Wei Wuxian repeats, a smile appearing slowly across his face, too genuine for Jiang Cheng to stomach, makes him turn away uncomfortably, not truly regretting it but growing wary. It’s always like this with Wei Wuxian, he gives an inch and his brother tears the door open.

“Stop making that face,” he demands, scowling, before remembering to shove the mints at him, “and give them this before they make themselves sick again.”

The kids are still looking a little green around the edges, but since they’re sticking to sea-level, it won’t be too much of a detour to go through one of the towns and stop by a pharmacy for some antiemetics, they’d have to stop for fuel at some point anyway. And maybe lunch at some point in the near future. While Sizhui and the Ouyang boy might prefer to stick to the water bottles for now, Jin Ling and the other Lan are probably getting hungry. 

Should he bring up the snacks from the luggage compartment? Probably. The buns are pretty wrapped and contained, so they won’t smell, nor will the zongzi. It’s better to be safe than sorry, anyway, Jiang Cheng isn’t stopping the car because someone can’t wait for lunch. “Come on,” he calls, pulling up the snack bag and shutting the door. He’s pretty sure he’s brought some seeds that won’t upset Sizhui’s stomach if he gets hungry before they get to the pharmacy. “I’m leaving in five minutes, and I don’t care who’s in the car or not.”

Jin Ling appears at his elbow. “Do we have plastic bags?”

Disgusting. “Glove compartment.”

The snack bag is dumped unceremoniously in his brother’s lap with a firm glare to let him know it should not be opened in any circumstances, on the pain of death. As usual, he estimates the warning will buy him about half an hour at most. 

In any case– a quick headcount, everyone is accounted for. “Seatbelts,” he warns, earning a round of groaning from the back.

*

**HOUR 6**

A visit to a small town at the foot of the mountain later, the kids are all looking much better, no sign of the greenish tone to their cheeks and no more groaning. The plastic bags stay, though, just in case. 

And even more telling, perhaps, is that they’re back at being annoying. 

“I spy with my little eye,” says Not-Sizhui, for the tenth time, “something lazy.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” says the Ouyang boy, also for the tenth time.

“Was it your face in a mirror?” says Jin Ling, not for the tenth time, but with the same waspish tone of the previous nine.

“No,” Not-Sizhui answers. “It was the picture of Jin Ling’s fat dog on his phone.”

Predictably, Jin Ling splutters with rage. There’s a scuffle, Not-Sizhui yelping and something once again hitting the back of his seat– most likely Jin Ling, launching himself to the back row. 

At his side, curled on the passenger seat with his head against the window, Wei Wuxian is fast asleep, so Jiang Cheng checks the rearview mirror one last time to make sure no one is paying attention and lets himself smile, just a little. Growing up in Koi Tower had been hard on Jin Ling, lonely, despite their best efforts. In his own childhood, Jiang Cheng had his siblings. Jin Zixuan had Mianmian. 

It's nice– relieving, truly– to see he has these three now. If pressed– under  _ a lot  _ of duress– Jiang Cheng might admit that it's good for Jin Ling that they’re so prone to shenanigans, it's the right of children to annoy their elders every once in a while, after all.

“Jiang- _ zongzhu,  _ say hi to the internet!”

_But_ , he sighs, firmly keeping his eyes on the road while Not-Sizhui shoves himself between the seats to wave his cellphone around, _couldn’t it_ _be less public?_

“Thank you for the food, Jiang- _ zongzhu,”  _ says Sizhui, replacing the other little Lan, and Jiang Cheng is torn between being pleased with having at least one polite well-mannered kid in this car and slightly stung at the formal address. In all fairness, the whole situation is awkward at best, bruises still too tender to be disturbed all around, and just the fact they’re all trapped in the same car for the foreseeable half a day is progress enough. A white flag of sorts, if you will. Still, he reaches for the last bun hidden in the cup holder and throws it at the kid. Sizhui blinks. “Thanks?”

“Don’t spill on the upholstery,” he warns with no real hope or care. After carting a very fussy baby Jin Ling around in his first years, one learns not to get too attached to that kind of thing.

“Hey!” Jin Ling worms his way under Sizhui’s arms to glare darkly at him, his little red dot wobbling around his frown. “I was going to eat that!”

“You said you wanted the chips from the gas station, don’t complain now.”

He scowls, “I still wanted it!”

“It’s okay,” Sizhui interrupts quickly, seeming to cringe at himself over it, probably remembering some rule or twenty about it. “We can share!”

“I don’t want your leftovers,” Jin Ling grumbles, but he sounds a lot more mollified already, pouting more than scowling. “I bet it’s cold anyway.”

From the far back, there’s some rustling and whispering. Jin Ling trades a look with Sizhui that speaks volumes, none of it auspicious, but it seems to establish a truce, so Jiang Cheng is willing to turn a blind eye for the sake of their continued peace and sanity. 

“Why are none of you wearing seatbelts?” Jiang Cheng glares, pleased when they both scramble back to their seats, the  _ clinking  _ of metal following hastily after.

At the passenger seat, Wei Wuxian only huffs, curling closer around himself, apparently unbothered by all the noise. His battered map has been relocated to the dashboard, flapping gently at the AC flowing, a tangle of red lines and blue circles visible from a distance, and according to the new route traced in purple sharpie, they have an additional hour and a half to their journey  _ if  _ they don’t hit traffic. 

The GPS had said nearly three hours and a completely different direction. It had beeped angrily at him when Jiang Cheng had grit his teeth and taken the exit to their left instead of following straight through the next 400m and turning right on the roundabout. 

Whatever. It’s too late to go back now anyway; the only thing to do is figure out where to stop for the night. Even if they manage Wei Wuxian’s optimistic projections, Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to stay on the road too long after nightfall here, especially not this far from the Unclean Realm and with four kids to look after.

Damn. They should probably call his sister, let her know there’s been a change of plans. Nie Huaisang, too. Maybe Nie Mingjue? Hopefully not, but Jiang Cheng makes a mental note to revisit that decision later. Fuck, they have to call Lan Wangji too, don’t they? That’s Wei Wuxian’s problem; he can explain the situation and let him know Jiang Cheng isn’t kidnapping them in the middle of nowhere in Qinghe.

He looks at the clock, considers the glare of the sun against the windshield. They could probably squeeze in a good five more hours of driving before it gets too late. He doesn’t know the area as well as he would like, less and less as they go further into the countryside, so finding a town large enough to have an inn able to house all of them for the night will also have to be Wei Wuxian’s problem. Or maybe one of the kids? Some site or other must have a good recommendation, right? That sounds like the kind of thing to exist on the internet, he’s sure. Could he trust them to find something appropriate, though? You can always count on Jin Ling to kick up a fuss about their lodgings, and surely the Ouyang boy must have  _ some  _ standards, considering he’s sect heir, but what about the Lans? Is there a rule about living frugally or some bullshit? They added like, a thousand rules, after all–  _ shit,  _ they have to take the Lan bedtime in consideration, don’t they? Finding a place to stay the night has to be moved up in the priorities list– 

Flames flare up in the backseat, blinding in the rearview mirror and blowing hot on his neck. In sync, all four kids scream. Someone kicks the back of his seat. Wei Wuxian bolts awake in the passenger seat, also with a scream.

Jiang Cheng swerves.

It’s only the second time he’s had to do that today, but he’s getting rather good at it; no one even honks at him. 

“Put it out, put it out,  _ put it out!” _

_ “I’m trying, stop yelling!” _

_ “Sizhui, do something!” _

_ “The window, lower the window!” _

_ “What’s happening?! Is everyone alright?” _

The tires screech as he slams on the brake, smoke wafting both inside and out the car, grass and rocks giving way before they completely stop moving, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t wait to whip around, seatbelt biting at his neck.

Four wide-eyed faces stare back at him.

At his side, Wei Wuxian seems to also not know what is going on– which is refreshingly new.

For one blessed minute, everything is silent. Then:

_ “It’s not my fault, I swear, I told them not to–” _

_ “It was all Jingyi, he was the one–” _

_ “We just miscalculated–” _

_ “What do you mean my fault, it was your talisman–” _

The smoke files out the window quickly enough, leaving a clear view of the scene, and Jiang Cheng lets them squabble among themselves while he takes the time to look them over. Jin Ling seems fine if a little stained with soot, and so does Sizhui and the rest of them– the car seems to have taken the worst hit: a blackened mark in the ceiling where the fire has licked at the material and a slightly singed carpet.

_ Thank fuck,  _ he thinks fervently. Outloud, “Is everyone alright?”

It shuts them up with an audible  _ click.  _ “What happened?” Wei Wuxian adds, looking between the kids, the half-open window, and the burn marks.

“Erm, we’re fine,” Jin Ling says, guilt written all over his face. “It’s– Sorry?”

Jiang Cheng counts to five in his head, taking stock of the four of them a final time. Then, “What was on fire?”

There’s an eerie calmness settling in his chest; it sizzles like the air right before a storm, crackling with static. Distantly, he notes it’s freaking the kids out; Jin Ling is elbowing Sizhui furiously while the other two hide behind them. 

Sizhui clears his throat. “The bun?”

The bun, he echoes in his head. At his side, still looking confused at the world as a whole, Wei Wuxian blinks. “What bun? Why was it on fire? Did no one teach you children not to play with fire?”

“It’s– Jin Ling said it was cold!”

“Hey, don’t throw this on me!” Jin Ling cries, shrinking back on his seat and looking quite panicked. “I said it was cold, I didn’t tell you to set it on fire, that was all Jingyi!”

From the row behind, Not-Sizhui makes a wounded noise, shoves at Jin Ling. “It was not! I just said a heating talisman would do the trick! Zizhen’s the one who set it on fire!”

_ A heating talisman.  _ On a single bun. Inside a moving car. These are the kids they’re letting run around in haunted locations without supervision. In  _ Qinghe,  _ of all places now. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, letting this sink in, letting the bickering and Wei Wuxian’s weird-ass brand of scolding wash over him.

The storm rolls in.  _ Ah, there it is,  _ he thinks, and opens his mouth to let them know exactly what he thinks of their little bright ideas,  _ “Of all the stupid–” _

_ * _

**HOUR 8**

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, and his voice is just this side of  _ too loud  _ for the silent car, bouncing off the windshield like raindrops, and Jiang Cheng knows already he will not like where the conversation is going. 

Outside, the sky is bright, running the AC ragged, and the forests are growing denser at the side of the road, darker, with fewer and fewer farms. How long has it been since they passed a gas station? “Don’t tell me we’re lost.”

“We are not lost,” his brother says quickly,  _ suspiciously  _ quickly, and waves his shitty map around. “I have a map.”

_ “Wei Wuxian–” _

“Shhh, you’re going to wake up the babies!” He hisses, glancing pointedly at the slumped mess of limbs on the backseats. “But anyway, Jiang Cheng, you’ve been driving since we left, aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine,” he grimaces for the sake of not making any other more embarrassing expression, and looks ahead, focuses his attention on the road, doesn’t add  _ because I’m still a cultivator because you cut yourself open knowing full well I would never want you to.  _ He swallows. “It’s fine. How long until the closest town?”

“A couple of hours if you mean  _ big enough to have an inn,”  _ Wei Wuxian answers easily, and Jiang Cheng wants the silence back except for the parts of him that don’t. He didn’t sign up for this. Nobody told him he would be trapped in a car with Wei Wuxian for a whole day. It’s not fair, he knows, to anyone involved, nor to the memories of all the times they drove around Yunmeng in the past, but what’s he supposed to do? Walk out into the wilderness? Hitchhike his way back to Lotus Pier? 

Tempting, but someone does have to keep an eye on those four back there.

“But Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian keeps talking because of course he does, it’s a miracle he stayed quiet this long, “you’re squinting at the road. What if you need glasses now? That’s definitely going to ruin your whole  _ big bad Sect Leader  _ vibe. Can you imagine? Jiang Cheng, do you think we can find purple glasses? That’d be better, right? For the– for the aesthetic!”

“What? I don’t–” he pauses, forcing himself to take a deep breath, slipping traitorously easy into the familiar banter.  _ Fuck it.  _ “If I let you drive,” he starts cautiously, despite his better judgment, “will you quit it?”

Wei Wuxian beams. It’s horribly sunny. “I promise I’ll even drive like a grandma too!”

_ Hey, Jiang Cheng, let’s go on a roadtrip, how about that?  _ Jiang Cheng sighs, pulling the car once more on the side of the road. “Shut up.” Unbuckling, he throws his door open and steps out, casting his eyes around for a quick survey of their surroundings. There’s mud on the ground, leftover from the last summer rain that always plagues both Yunmeng and Qinghe during the season. “Do you even still have a license?”

It’s the closest to Wei Wuxian’s death as either of them dare to skirt around, but it’s a legitimate question, and Jiang Cheng refuses to be cowed by the enormity of  _ everything  _ they don’t talk about. “I don’t want to tell Nie Mingjue we got arrested in his territory.” A pause. It flutters between them like a white flag. Then,  _ “again.” _

Like clockwork, his brother scoffs, indignant where he’s wrestling with the seat, fussing over the settings and pushing it too close to the wheel. The mirrors, Jiang Cheng notices, have already been messed with. “Of course I have! Aiya, what do you take me for? Can’t go around being legally dead forever, can I? No, I’ve got all that boring paperwork done already.” He’s grimacing as if just the memory of it is turning his stomach, but he starts the car and dutifully follows all the steps to pull back into the road under Jiang Cheng’s watchful eyes. Pleased with his performance, Wei Wuxian relaxes in the driver’s seat, lowering the ridiculous sunglasses he had been wearing on the top of his head, and turns to grin at Jiang Cheng again, “and that time wasn’t even my fault!”

“Eyes on the road,” Jiang Cheng snaps, annoyed at his own lack of bite, grumbles, “Was too. Whose idea was it to go camping in the middle of the woods?”

“Where else!” He says, loudly, and the stupid sunglasses go crooked when he laughs, “and it would have been completely fine, by the way!”

“It would,” he agrees, “if you hadn’t tried to buy wine with the worst fake ID in existence with some random golden rocks you found in the mud–”

“Huaisang said it was real gold!”

“ – why would there be real gold in the riverbanks?”

“I don’t know– why not! And the ID was not that bad! We would have been fine if it was real gold.”

“I had real gold, Nie Huaisang had real gold,  _ you  _ had real gold! Which you tried to use but even a blind man could see the ID was fake! Your voice was  _ breaking!” _

_ “Your voice  _ was breaking!”

He reaches to smack him at the back of his head, halfheartedly allowing him to dodge it with a snort. Something has settled in the car, folded in the quiet corners along with the sounds of the forest, and Jiang Cheng breathes in, yawns around his amusement. Eyebrows raised, his brother shakes his head. “Aiya, Jiang Cheng, you should just go to sleep. It’s only a bunch of old trees from here, nothing new.”

“Shut up,” he says on reflex, struggling to straighten up on his seat but far too comfortable not to slouch, just a little. Stretch his legs. “ ‘m not tired.”

Wei Wuxian sounds amused. Smug, the bastard. “Ah, of course not.”

The sky is beginning to tint red outside, blue giving in to the lowering sun, and a few clouds have gathered by the horizon line, casting a more forgiving weather. They’re having a harsh summer this year, and Jiang Cheng makes a mental note to remind the teachers to move classes to the courtyard closer to the piers, perhaps add more swimming classes? The radio crackles to life for the first time since they veered off the main highway and into whatever dusty road Wei Wuxian has led them into, a staticky song blaring out, obnoxious even in the quieter volume, and honestly, Jiang Cheng doesn’t need to open his eyes to know his brother is delighted by it.

Unwilling to suffer through the torture and trapped by his own  _ driver chooses the music  _ rule, he only scowls, pulling out his headphone from the glove compartment and slouching further into his seat. The cacophony is replaced with his own shitty music and Jiang Cheng leans against the window, just resting his eyes.

He’s not tired.

It’s just for a second, then he’ll take a look at the map.

Just for a second.

*

**HOUR 10**

Jiang Cheng wakes with a start.

His headphones fall off in his haste to sit up, giving way for whatever the fuck is going on to finally filter in.

Some stupid ass electronic music is playing loudly from the speakers, and it’s pitch black outside, and Wei Wuxian is still wearing his stupid ass sunglasses. 

In the backseat, the kids seem to also have found sunglasses.

“What the fuck,” he asks no one in particular, or maybe the universe as a whole, and his voice is promptly drowned by the noise.

Still, the movement tips them off and Wei Wuxian beams at him as if nothing weird is happening. “Jiang Cheng! You’re awake!”

_ That  _ carries over the music, catching the attention of the lunatics bopping their heads fervently in the back. Once again, Jin Ling dives over his friends to pop up between the seats, _ “Jiujiu!  _ We’re having a party!”

“A party,” he echoes, blinking as he tries to orient himself and process the situation. Well, to be fair, this might be on him for falling asleep and leaving them all unsupervised. 

“Yes.” Not-Sizhui leans over Jin Ling, grinning way too energetically for someone so close to their bedtime. “Wei- _ qianbei  _ figured out how to connect the speakers to Jin Ling’s phone while you were asleep, Jiang- _ zongzhu.  _ How come you didn’t wake up? Is it a talisman? Is it a curse? Are you– hey, Jin Ling, is your uncle cursed?”

Jiang Cheng misses the time when that kid was scared of him, he truly does; he doesn’t know when that changed, but he bets it’s all Wei Wuxian’s fault, and Jiang Cheng catches himself almost telling the kid about his noise-canceling headphones before he remembers  _ actually,  _ it’s none of his business, and  _ actually,  _ he doesn’t have to answer that.

So, instead, he  _ glares.  _

Not-Sizhui is beginning to wilt under his stare when Jin Ling makes an affronted noise. “Hold on– you’re not surprised, you already knew how to do that, didn’t you!”

“It’s not exactly rocket science.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s snickers.

This seems to incense Jin Ling further. “And you never let me do it before?!  _ Jiujiu,  _ how could you _!” _

Jiang Cheng, who is an actual adult and does not wish to suffer through whatever moody teenage songs Jin Ling is angsting over that week, only shrugs. “Driver picks the music.”

“That’s right,” Wei Wuxian pipes up, nodding as if imparting some wise knowledge. “Jin Ling, that’s the golden rule of road trips. Driver always picks the music, and the passenger navigates.”

Jin Ling looks unconvinced. “Have  _ you  _ ever been on a road trip?”

“Well–”

“Those months with Hanguang-Jun don’t count!”

“Why not?! We were traveling, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, but you were also investigating and running from the sects, so it doesn’t count,” he finishes valiantly, having lost momentum somewhere in the middle of his sentence when he seems to have realized he’d have to touch on the subject of Jin Guangyao. 

Not for the first time, Jiang Cheng wishes it had been his sword to deal the final blow on the bastard. “So, then? Did you go on a road trip before or not?” He gives Wei Wuxian a pointed look, nudging the conversation forward, away from the sore spot.

“Right, right.” His brother clears his throat. “I did travel for a while after things settled down?”

“Also doesn’t count.” Not-Sizhui shakes his head decisively. “Road trips require at least one more person.”

“Does night-hunting count, then?” the Ouyang boy pipes up, appearing behind Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng is pretty sure they should not be able to all fit in like that, but he isn’t so sure he wants to think too hard about it.

“No,” Sizhui says thoughtfully. “I don’t think so; they’re kinda like work, right? And besides, we usually use our swords then.”

“So the rules go,” Jin Ling is frowning in concentration, “it has to be not work-related, have at least one more person, and be by car?”

“What about bikes?” Wei Wuxian asks, clearly struggling not to laugh at their solemn little faces.

“Or RVs,” Jiang Cheng adds wryly.

Not-Sizhui takes their questions to heart. It’s a miracle they’re managing to maintain a full conversation with the radio screaming from the speakers. “Ugh, I guess it could be just not by sword. Or maybe swords can count?”

“We can’t have snacks by sword, though,” the Ouyang boy points out, “and that’s a  _ must  _ on road trips.”

“Yeah, and it’s harder to talk, too,” Sizhui agrees, “or have any sort of music. Snacks and music should also be a rule!”

It’s all very Lan of them to be setting down rules like this, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion, but at least Jin Ling is dislocating his shoulder to reach for the radio and lower the volume to something that won’t end with their shattered eardrums. “If you all like rules so much,” he starts pleasantly, “why don’t you start by  _ wearing your damn seatbelts before I tie you to your seats with Zidian.” _

There’s a beat of silence. Then,  _ “ugh.” _

_ “ _ Fine, I guess.”

“How would that even work?”

“Wait, it can do that? What else can it do? Can it decapitate someone like the chord assassination? That would be  _ so cool–  _ .”

Jiang Cheng trades a look with his brother, who’s looking far too amused at the whole thing. “Shut up–”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Don’t you dare–”

“I just think it’s funny,” Wei Wuxian snickers, glancing at the still-grumbling kids settling back down in their seats. “Jiang Cheng, it’s over, they’re officially not scared of you anymore.”

It’s dark enough in and out of the car that nothing reflects on the windows, and Jiang Cheng sighs, allows himself to roll his eyes at the stupid antics. “Have you found a place to stop for the night?”

“A-Yuan picked something on Yelp,” says his brother with the confidence of someone who definitely does not know what Yelp is. “We’ll hit the town in about ten minutes, tops. Then, it’s bedtime for the little Lans.”

Not-Sizhui makes a noise of protest. “What? But Senior Wei, we’re not in Cloud Recesses!”

“And I know for a fact you guys go out like a light anyway,” he finishes smugly. To Jiang Cheng, “and before you ask,  _ yes,  _ we already told Nie- _xiong_ not to wait up, and  _ yes,  _ all the kids called their parents.”

_ Huh. _ “Huh,” Jiang Cheng says.

“Bet you didn’t expect that.”

Jiang Cheng glares. “Did you use your phone while driving?”

“Aiyo, Jiang Cheng,” his brother pouts, “of course not! Here I was, being my most responsible self, what are you yelling at me for?”

“I’m not yelling,” he yells. Pauses. A deep breath, then, calmer, “I’m not yelling, fuck off. Just keep driving, it looks like it might rain.”

*

**HOUR 10 AND LIKE, THE LONGEST 15 MINUTES OF JIANG CHENG’S LIFE**

When they were children there was a house at the end of a swamp.

It was as old as the swamp itself, standing at the edge of the water with a half-fallen pier, more nature than man-made structure, and everyone in the village would say the swamp was swallowing it bit by bit. The walls were green with moss, vines sliding down the cracked windows like tear tracks, and the wood has long been worn down with rot. 

The swamp was swallowing it whole.

So, when they were children, there was a house at the end of the swamp, and for as long as Jiang Cheng can remember, it’s been haunted. 

Not by ghosts, of course, those were liberated and suppressed long ago, but in the way all old, destroyed things are haunted when you’re a child. It looks scary, so therefore it must be something evil.

All the kids dared each other to take a boat to the fallen pier and walk up to the second store.

When they were children, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had taken a boat to the fallen pier and climbed over the porch. It had been raining then like it’s raining now. A crying downpour that curtains the vision, blurs the world out of focus.

Makes strange old buildings all the more menacing. 

  
  


“Are you sure this is the place?”

Lightning tears through the sky, illuminating the towering inn across them. It shakes the building like a shiver, rattling the yellowed windows and allowing a view of the peeling paint. Above the door, a neon sign announces  _ VACANCIES!  _ in flickering frequency. 

“Five stars on Yelp?” Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows, not bothering to disguise his incredulity.

Huddled around him to avoid the rain under the only umbrella they found in the car, the children squirm guiltily. “It looked better in the pictures?”

A cell phone is thrown into his face at the same time an elbow is jammed into his ribs. Blinking against the sudden blinding light, he squits at the slightly pixelated photos of a cozy little inn, with a cozy little lawn and a cozy little  _ WELCOME!  _ sign. It has the washed-out sepia filter of quirky vintage photos, except– “When was this taken? The 70s?”

Jin Ling stares mournfully up at him. “Beggars can’t be choosers?”

Jiang Cheng sighs. No, no they can’t. People stranded in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere in the Unclean Realm can’t either. The inside of the car looks more and more tempting. “It’s fine. It’s just for one night.”

_ “Be respectful and humble,”  _ Not-Sizhui says doubtfully as if convincing himself more than others.

Sizhui nods.  _ “Be easy on others.”  _

“Be alive come morning?” The Ouyang kid adds hopefully, eyeing the flickering sign. 

“It’ll be fine,” Wei Wuxian says, flapping a hand towards the grimy glass door. “If there were resentful energy, Jiang Cheng and I would know.”

They would, yes, but frankly, Jiang Cheng isn’t keen on looking too hard either. They’re here to spend the night and take shelter from the rain, so unless any spirit is actively harming anyone, it can go fuck itself. Not their problem, not their responsibility, Nie Mingjue can send his disciples to dispatch it later.

“Come on,” he continues, “I’m sure they’re perfectly ordinary people.”

One of these days, they’ll learn not to let Wei Wuxian run his mouth, but unfortunately, today it is not that day. Today, they’re forced to eat their words because perfectly ordinary is not an adjective he would use to describe any of it. 

When they were children, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian went into the Swallowed House at the end of the swamp and climbed over the porch all the way to the wooden staircase inside. There was no light inside, just a green sort of dark like the belly of a beast. The belly of the swamp. They got to the staircase at the end of the hall and they breathed the stench of digested memories, and at the top of the stairs, there was a painting. Jiang Cheng can still remember it. The black of her robes. Shadows on her face. Sunken eyes. Whisperings in the folds of her wrinkles. 

The old woman behind the counter now wouldn’t be too out of place in that painting.

“Erm, hello there,” Wei Wuxian raises a hand in greeting from the pile they make into the lobby, all dripping puddles on the carpet and dragging mud in their hems. He gets no answer. “Right. We’ve booked the rooms online?”

The old woman stares at him with milky eyes that seem to stare at all of them; her grey hair tucked in a neat bun and her grey clothes tucked in her neat form. Austere. And yet, her skin hangs loose on her bones like an ill-fitting robe, folds and wrinkles that should be there but feel ill-placed. Has she blinked at all since they’ve arrived?

  
  


Behind him, Jiang Cheng feels Jin Ling clutch the back of his shirt, all the other juniors shuffling closer to them despite their own swords hanging on their hips. _ “Name,”  _ she croaks in a crickety voice, a single finger pressing a key on the computer. Blue light fills the paleness of her face, eerie in its unnaturalness. 

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “Jiang Wanyin, two doubles and two singles.”

She hums. It vibrates on his bones. Underneath their boots, the carpet squishes with every movement, and above their heads, mounted on the wall, a bear bares its teeth down at them. The old lady hums again, picking up four keys from the board behind her. “Breakfast at seven.”

It’s meant to be dropped into his open palm, but her nails are long and sharp, and it scratches his skin like grazing ice. “Thanks,” he says, snatching his hand back and struggling not to glare. The quicker they’re done here, the quicker they can retreat behind heavily closed doors.

He still feels her glassy eyes following them as they file out of the lobby and up the creaking stairs, all the way until they turn a corner into the nearest hallway. 

_ “What the fuck,”  _ Jin Ling whispers, vehemently _ ,  _ and it’s a true testament of the fuckedness of the situation that Jiang Cheng doesn’t even scold him for it. “Like, what the actual fuck.”

“I feel like I need a cleanse,” Not-Sizhui complains, shuddering.

“She was so creepy, holy shit.” The Ouyang kid nods furiously, clutching at Jin Ling’s arm. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we? She’s gonna come and murder us in our sleep.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sizhui pats his shoulder with a grimace. “She’s just old. Possibly a little blind. Maybe. But I’m sure she’s not a serial killer.”

“No one is going to get murdered; there is no serial killer,” Jiang Cheng snaps, glaring until they quicken their steps towards their rooms and it’s just him and Wei Wuxian in the hall, watched by the dated wallpaper and wilted house plants.

“I take the Lans?” 

“You take the Lans,” he nods, grimacing at the thought of sharing the room with two energetic teenagers that will not pass out as soon as the clock turns. “The walls are thin, we’ll hear if anything happens.”

Wei Wuxian nods too, scratching his nose. “It’s just so they feel better.”

“Make sure they’re not up to shenanigans,” Jiang Cheng agrees, feeling his own key burn a hole in his hand. “Shouldn’t have booked the singles anyway.”

“Yeah, this is more responsible.”

“They’re teenagers; they need supervision.”

“Right? Can you imagine? At that age, we would have probably gotten into trouble if left alone.”

“At  _ this  _ age, you still get into trouble if left alone,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, avoiding thinking too much about this and being a teenager at Cloud Recesses and all the shit in between, and– “Now what are you still doing here?”

“Alright, I’m going, I’m going,” he laughs, slapping Jiang Cheng on the back before knocking loudly on one of the doors.

Jiang Cheng turns to his own assigned room. From inside, Jin Ling’s voice drifts, raised and incensed. He hopes the chair is not too uncomfortable, it’s going to be a long night.

*

  
  


**WAY TOO LATE IN THE NIGHT, WHAT THE HELL, JIN LING?**

In truth, Jiang Cheng hadn’t meant to fall asleep. 

For all that he had barked and snapped, he had been uneasy to leave them vulnerable, something about the inn putting him on edge, bringing  _ Sandu  _ closer,  _ Zidian  _ sparkling across his knuckles, but as the night wore out, all the driving caught up to him. His eyes drifted shut without his permission. 

In truth, he wakes up with a start.

War leaves no stone unturned and Jiang Cheng was no different– years in the frontlines have taught him to rise at the slightest of sounds and not show any of it. Soon after it was over, it had brought him many sleepless nights, roused by the cheerful wildlife of Lotus Pier. Now, it wakes him at the creak of a floorboard and whispered voices across the room.

Jiang Cheng spares a moment to let out a weary sigh.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The two teenagers freeze midway through the door, heads swiveling so fast in his direction, he’s surprised he didn’t hear a crack. Even in the dark, he can see the deer-in-headlights wide eyes they’re giving him, but Jin Ling, who unfortunately is not for the first time being caught sneaking out in the middle of the night and therefore has lost a little of his fear, is the first to recover. Clearing his throat and puffing out his chest, he crosses his arms, “We’re investigating the strange occurrences in this inn.”

“It’ll be a special vlog episode!” The Ouyang kid explains hastily, waving a camera for emphasis.

_ “What  _ strange occurrences?” Jiang Cheng sighs again, closing his eyes briefly, asking for patience. It’s still pouring down outside, thunder rolling periodically in the distance. Tomorrow, he’ll get behind the wheel again first thing in the morning and then spend the rest of the day in the Unclean Realm with both Nie Huaisang  _ and  _ Wei Wuxian. It’ll be a long day. He should be  _ resting.  _ “We’ve been here for less than a night.”

For the third time, a cell phone is shoved in his face. “There are tons of weird reviews!”

“We didn’t see it the first time because it’s not on  _ Yelp,  _ but there’s a thread on one of the forums and it’s  _ so  _ weird.”

“Jiujiu, it’s our responsibility to check it out.”

Jiang Cheng gives them a  _ look.  _ “Your responsibility.”

Jin Ling sticks up his chin. “Yes, to our viewers.”

Contrary to what most people think, Jiang Cheng does know how to pick his battles, and more importantly, he knows his nephew and he knows how teenagers are. If he tells them no, they’ll just wait until he’s asleep again to try to sneak out– they’ll be doing this over and over until the sun comes up. 

So instead, he reminds himself he loves his nephew and his sister and he only has himself to blame for allowing himself to be pulled into this. “It’s raining,” he grits out, pushing off the uncomfortable chair he’d taken for the night. “Where’s your coat? Do you  _ want  _ to get sick?”

Jin Ling stumbles. “What? Wait, you’re not stopping us? Jiujiu, what are– I mean, I’m not cold! And it’s not raining that hard!”

As if to prove him wrong, lightning strikes somewhere close and thunder shakes the building. Jin Ling huffs, stomping back to his bag to pull out one of the jackets Yanli must have packed for him and throwing his friend another.

Good.

“Very well.” Jiang Cheng surveys the room, the kids, and finding nothing amiss, he gestures them to go on. “You have thirty minutes to do your video thing.  _ Thirty minutes.  _ I don’t care if you find a full-body apparition, we  _ will  _ be back in this room in thirty minutes or I’ll break your legs. We have a long day tomorrow, and I want to leave at first light.”

This time it’s the Ouyang kid that blinks owlish up at him. “We?”

“Of course,” he huffs, hesitating for barely a second before picking up  _ Sandu.  _ “Did you think I was going to let you go wandering off alone? I’m coming with.”

The kids trade a look so full of despair and childish indignation, he nearly laughs, busying himself with locking the door behind them to hide his amusement. “Will your friends be joining?”

“No,” Jin Ling says, sullen.

“They’re not very good at staying up late,” the Ouyang kid adds, either already over their sulking or too polite to be waspish like Jin Ling. “It was going to be just the two of us.”

_ Ah,  _ so not over it yet. That’s fine, no one likes to be chaperoned, but at least the kid is polite, Jiang Cheng figures, and smart enough to know he has to get on Jiang Cheng’s good side. “Probably for the best,” Jiang Cheng nods, letting them pick the direction and falling a step behind as they turn on the camera, speaking at it with way too much cheerfulness for the late hour.

They walk down the hallway, Jin Ling’s flashlight cutting a bleeding slice in the dark, dust floating in the air as if suspended by the beam, as if the whole room was holding its breath, waiting for the moment to strike. Jiang Cheng has cleared actual haunted houses less ominous than this. 

“Come on, let’s get a shot of the woods.” Jin Ling steers the Ouyang kid towards the tall window at the end of the hall, helping steady the camera to show the view outside– rain pelting down against the asphalt, the empty road ahead of the empty parking lot, old tire tracks scarred in the gravel, and beyond, the woods. Dark, dense, howling. 

Leaves stirring in the wind. A bird taking flight. Faint, in the distance, a light flickers– gone. Jiang Cheng shakes his head.  _ It’s just the flashlight,  _ he scolds himself, just Jin Ling’s stupid old flashlight he always forgets to charge properly. 

“That’s going to look so  _ creepy,”  _ the Ouyang kid is saying, grinning. “Jingyi is going to be so mad he missed it.”

Jiang Cheng clears his throat, looking pointedly at his watch. 

“Right, right.” Jin Ling rushes to tug his friend forward, dragging them downstairs and collectively cringing at each creak of the wood. Silently, Jiang Cheng reminds himself he is a  _ Sect Leader,  _ if he wants to walk around the inn, who’s to say he can’t? They’re not doing anything wrong, anyway. If the creepy lady were to melt from the shadows and jump them, what crime could she accuse them? Insomnia? Recording unobtrusive footage?

This is fine, they’re fine.

Past the lobby, there’s the dining room. The glass doors are locked, whining in their hinges when they try the doorknob, but the camera is pressed right against the glass, hoping to capture the ghastly ancient atmosphere– outdated tablecloths dancing with the aggressively floral patterns of the furniture. 

Yeah, they’re definitely not having breakfast here, thank you very much.

Further still, they venture into yet another hallway, and Jiang Cheng is trying not to think too much about the layout of the house or how it looks from the outside; old architecture is always weird anyway, that’s all. And if the shadows seem longer, well…

“Did you hear that?”

_ Zidian  _ flares up instinctively, and Jiang Cheng strains to hear whatever spooked the kid, automatically grabbing the back of Jin Ling’s shirt before he could sprint headlong into danger like every teenager ever. 

Silence. 

Outside, the rain.

“I can’t hear anything,” says Jin Ling, shrugging off Jiang Cheng.

“Can’t you hear it? The groaning?” The Ouyang Kid hisses, latching on Jiang Cheng’s sleeve and turning wide eyes to him. “What about you, Jiang- _ zongzhu?” _

Jiang Cheng grimaces. “It’s just the wind.” He waves off the camera suddenly in his face, scowling. “Don’t you think I would know if there was a haunting here, kid?”

_ “Jiujiu,”  _ Jin Ling glares, crossing his arms and blinding them all with the flashlight in the process. The light flashes against a mirror on the wall, pristine in its polish, and something moves inside. Jiang Cheng is sure of it. A ripple in a lake’s surface. “You know his name! And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been calling Jingyi  _ Not-Sizhui.  _ I’ve heard you on the phone with  _ a-die!” _

In the darkness, the mirror hangs quietly, still, and Jiang Cheng hums distractedly, only distantly guilty. “Fine.” He feels out for resentful energy but finds nothing, just the usual lingering wisps of  _ Chengqing  _ upstairs. “Time’s up, back to bed, come on.”

“But it hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet!”

A groan pierces the air. The wind picks up, and the door at their left opens a crack. Jin Ling and the–  _ fine,  _ Jiang Cheng  _ does  _ know their names, even if they’re annoying little shits. Whatever, this is just because he bets Lan Xichen calls them  _ gongzi  _ or something equally stupid and Jiang Cheng refuses to lose. He’s  _ clearly  _ the best uncle. It’s not going to be a  _ Lan  _ that’s going to win over him. 

So. Jin Ling and Zizhen immediately crowd in the doorway, giving Jiang Cheng no other choice but to peer inside as well. 

_ Gods,  _ he wishes he hadn’t.

The room is dark, darker than the hallway, but there, at the far corner of the room, the old lady from the front desk is standing, facing the wall. She’s just there, deathly still in the shadows, groaning and gnashing her teeth, and the darkness is a living thing around her. 

He shivers. 

_ “What the fuck,” _ Jin Ling whispers, stepping back.

“Is she–” Zizhen scrambles to get behind them, “is she alright? That doesn’t look alright. That looks very much  _ not  _ alright!”

There is no resentful energy he can sense, and it’s not like she’s  _ hurting  _ anyone or herself, Jiang Cheng tells himself. He would  _ know,  _ he  _ would.  _ “She’s probably just sleepwalking,” he tells them, grabbing their collars and forcefully dragging them away from the scene and the old lady and the creepy mirror. “Old people are more likely to do it.”

Is that true? Fuck, it might be; he thinks he read about it somewhere. Sundowning and shit. But it doesn’t matter– whatever creepy shit is going on in this inn, it’s not their problem. Nie Huaisang can come down here himself and exorcise the land for all that he cares.

All that matters is that he’s getting these two back in their beds tonight and getting the fuck out of here in the morning. 

He locks the door behind them.

_ “Jiujiu,”  _ Jin Ling starts, pauses. A shaky breath. At his side, Zizhen is holding his hand with white knuckles and eyes wide.

Jiang Cheng finds himself softening. So much for ghost hunting, huh? He ruffles their hair, shooing them to bed. “Go to sleep, brat. We’re still leaving at dawn, hear me?”

“Yes, Jiang- _ zongzhu,”  _ they chorus, shuffling away with all the angst and sulking only teenagers could muster.

A shriek shatters the calm. 

Outside, he can see a barn owl staring unblinkingly from the tree line through the foggy window.

Jiang Cheng  _ hates  _ Qinghe.

Pulling out his phone, he sinks in his horrible chair and opens the text thread with Wei Wuxian. The last message was from two weeks ago when his brother had sent him a picture of a frog with purple spots and said  _ dis you?  _ and then soon after:  _ wait no dont block me.  _ Jiang Cheng unblocks him now to type:  _ hey have you heard of any cases of demonic owls possessing people? _

The grey dots appear as Wei Wuxian starts typing, stops, starts again. Jiang Cheng is nearly throwing his phone at the owl when a message finally comes through. 

_ new phone, who dis? _

_ no wait dont block me _

*

  
  


**WHO CARES AT THIS POINT, HIS SCHEDULE IS ALREADY GONE**

“And we’re here reporting live from Qinghe with  _ the  _ great Sandu Shengshou! Hey, Jiang- _ zongzhu,  _ Jiang- _ zongzhu,  _ hey, say good morning to our followers! Is it true you and Jin Ling and Zizhen exorcised a forest demon last night? Alright, alright, no shop talk at the table– I know, Sizhui– so Jiang- _ zongzhu,  _ the people want to know: what’s your morning routine? Oh,  _ sandus_frog  _ is asking for you to drop the skincare routine!”

“Lan Jingyi,” Jiang Cheng says because he made a promise to Jin Ling to be nicer to his friends and also be an overall superior uncle than Lan Xichen. “I  _ will  _ throw this thing out of the window.”

It’s just after dawn, the sky hasn’t even completely turned blue, and Jiang Cheng had barely slept last night, but none of the kids seem to be having a problem with this; Jingyi has already shoved a camera on his face. 

“Hey!” Jin Ling suddenly pops up in front of Jingyi, red in the face and huffing like an angry kitten. How are they this  _ awake?  _ “That’s my uncle! Stop saying that! It’s, it’s– no! Sizhui! How do I turn off comments? Sizhui, stop laughing–”

Jiang Cheng watches them bicker and scuffle all the way to the car, the camera being passed off from hand to hand, sometimes held over Jin Ling’s head before he kicks them in the shins. Teenagers are the  _ worst.  _ What the hell is a morning routine? He washed his face and brushed his teeth before coming down to check out, does that count? Why the fuck do people want to know that?

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian jumps down from one of the trees, landing on top of the car, and if he finds so much as a  _ scratch–  _ “It is I, the fearsome Yiling Patriarch!”

Silence hangs for a full minute while Jiang Cheng refuses to engage and silently steps around the commotion to open the trunk. They hadn’t been very careful last night when pulling out their bags, and now everything’s a mess, but if Jin Ling didn’t want to share a seat with his equipment, he probably should’ve been neater when throwing his baggage in the car.

“Uh, Wei- _ qianbei,”  _ he hears Sizhui saying, “I don’t think people believed you this time either.”

“They’re saying the ribbon is the wrong color,” Zizhen adds.

“Hey, who the hell are they calling a lousy impostor?!” It’s Jin Ling now. “That’s also my uncle!”

“Man, you do have a lot of uncles,” says Jingyi.

Jiang Cheng closes the trunk. “I’m counting to five and everybody better be inside with seatbelts on.  _ One–” _

*

**IT’D BETTER REALLY BE AN HOUR AWAY FROM THE UNCLEAN REALM, WEI WUXIAN**

“Are we there yet?”

“No, the map says we need to cross a bridge first.”

“What about now?”

“Jingyi, it’s been a  _ minute.” _

“So what, Sizhui? Can’t we use a transportation talisman? Wei- _ qianbei,  _ can we use a transportation talisman?”

“I’m not the one driving, ask Jiang Cheng about it.”

“Jiang- _ zongzhu,  _ can we–”

_ “We’re in the same car–  _ no, we’re not using talismans. Wei Wuxian says we’re an hour away. Complain to him if he’s wrong.”

“Wei- _ qianbei,  _ are you sure we’re only an hour away?”

“Trust this senior, Jingyi, I have never gotten lost when I had this map.”

“That’s such a big lie, you’ve gotten us lost so many–”

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, that was a completely different map! This map is better! I’m never getting lost with this map!”

“Are we there yet, though?  _ Wait, Jin Ling, stop– I’m not– alright, ALRIGHT! Ouch–” _

*

**UNCLEAN REALM,** **_FINALLY,_ ** **FUCK**

Driving past the high gates of the fortress, Jiang Cheng sends a thousand prayers to the gods. How long has it been since they’ve left Lotus Pier? A year? A decade? It has felt longer. Never before has he suffered for so long, this has singlehandedly put him off of road trips  _ forever,  _ he’s never willingly stepping foot in a car with any of these people again in his  _ life– _

“Nie- _ xiong  _ says we can just park in the front; there’s a valet service,” says Wei Wuxian, whose face has only detached from the window long enough to text Huaisang about their arrival, vibrating with excitement just like the kids in the back. “Jiang Cheng, we should hire a valet service in Lotus Pier too! Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“Most people visiting arrive by sword,” he answers curtly, carefully not bristling at the idea of a stranger driving his car. “It’d be a waste of money.”

“We have one at Koi Tower,” Jin Ling offers, distracted watching the market outside.

“There. We’re definitely not getting one.”

“Lan Xichen also says it is a waste,” Sizhui says, smiling beatifically in the rearview mirror and giving Jiang Cheng the distinct impression he’s being played, but  _ fuck,  _ should he arrange for valet service?

“Look, that’s Nie Huaisang,” he says loudly, talking over the arguing and parking haphazardly by the lawn. 

They all file out of the car in a hurry, barely bowing before Huaisang. “Nie- _ qianbei!  _ Thank you for allowing us to record in the crypt,” says Sizhui, the only one who’s retained any semblance of politeness in face of excitement. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Huaisang waves them off with his fan, grinning, “it’s an honor, really. We’re big fans, Da-ge and I.”

Wei Wuxian taps his nose. “Somehow, I can’t see Nie- _ zongzhu  _ watching a bunch of teenagers getting scared in the dark, Nie _ -xiong.” _

They stare at each other for a stretched-out moment before busting out laughing, Huaisang hitting Wei Wuxian with his fan and dodging his slaps in return. “Ah, Jiang- _ xiong,  _ Jiang- _ xiong,  _ help me! I’m being bullied! In my own home, no less!”

He scurries to hide behind Jiang Cheng, using him as a human shield to Wei Wuxian’s attacks, and just like that, it’s like being back in Cloud Recesses, pushing and laughing on the way back from the lectures, Huisang stalking some bird in the woods while Wei Wuxian whistled out-of-tune to try and lure it out, and Jiang Cheng looking up bird sounds on the internet. 

Somehow, it always ended up with one of them falling in one of the streams.

“Wei Wuxian!” He barks, huffing. “Do you  _ want  _ Nie Mingjue to throw you from the watchtowers? Stop harassing him. And you! What are you hiding behind me for? Where is your saber?”

“Aiya, Jiang- _ xiong,  _ not you too! I left it in my room, how would I know I would be so cruelly attacked at such an early hour? Have mercy, have mercy, O-great-Sandu-Shengshou!”

Wei Wuxian cackles, stumbling out of the way as Huaisang laughs, yelping and diving away from Jiang Cheng, so Jiang Cheng has to run after him, jumping over the bushes and making circles around the benches. “You!”

“It’s good to see you too, Jiang- _ xiong,  _ Wei- _ xiong!” _

Distantly, Jiang Cheng hears Jin Ling sighing, saying, “Come on, he left the key on the ignition, let’s bring our things inside, they’ll be at this for a while.”

“Making such a scene right here in the doorway.” Zizhen seems to be cringing.

“It’s very– bold,” Sizhui comments.

“Yikes,” Jingyi says, “couldn’t be me.”

Later, he will have  _ words  _ with these kids about respecting their elders, but right now Jiang Cheng has to get Huaisang for saying his car is a  _ minivan, like an actual soccer mom,  _ so priorities clearly need to be weighed. 

And if this trip turns out not to be so bad, well– they’re still taking a plane next time.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> okay, if you liked it, leave a comment below, or you can send more prompts or talk about this fandom on [my tumblr.](https://wenqiing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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